Today is the first official day of my spring break. Yes, yes, having 11 days off is lovely and could potentially be jealousy-inducing, but before you decide to hate me, let's look at the facts.
1) It's 40 degrees and rainy.
2) I began my first morning of freedom with our first session of the P90X: Extreme Home Fitness.
3) See 1 and 2.
n.o.c. is a sucker for infomercials. When I met him, he owned one of those abtronic belts that shocks you every few seconds in order to render the fat from your abs of steel. Let me be more clear - he purposefully purchased and utilized a device that sent electric currents through his person in hopes of a six-pack. So when I noticed him watching a P90X: Extreme Home Fitness infomercial at the gym two weeks ago, I suspected that he may once again succumb to the siren song, which he did the next day. So now we own the 12-dvd set, plus books on "How to Bring It!" and "Nutrition for Power Performance!" And, since it's a home fitness jobbie, we spent part of yesterday running P90X errands, purchasing two sets of dumbbells (funny!) and an over-the-door pull up bar.
Accouterments procured, we got up early this morning to do the first routine: Core Synergistics. Now, I am possibly the least perky person on the planet (though, since I am Southern, I can pretend convincingly for hours on end), and I am certainly not someone who gets motivated by a bizarrely muscled numbnut and his crew of trapeze artists, professional dancers, and genetic freaks cheering for me to "bring those knees to your ears!" But that's what I did this morning. For an hour.
Why did I do this? Why - particularly after I'd already run eight miles this weekend and was well pleased with my fitness regimen in general? I did it because n.o.c. was excited about it, and if pushed on the real reason why one might get married, I think I'd have to say it's so you have someone who is contractually obligated to endure your ridiculous fixations, even those that involve rolling on the floor in a poor imitation of ludicrously toned superhumans doing an exercise called the Magic Banana.
If we look like superhumans in 90 days, I'll happily eat crow. Until then, I'm just pleased to know that the pull-up bar is multipurpose.